Illicit Artifacts

by Stevie Mikayne

  She wondered, for a moment, what the cemetery would look like one hundred years from now—if cemeteries would still be used at all.

  Two police cruisers, lights off, stood by the wide doors to the mausoleum. She noticed the coroner’s vehicle and two black town cars belonging to the funeral home. She parked at the end and got out.

  Karrie greeted her at the door. “Thank God you’re early. They wanted to open it already without you, but I’ve been stalling,” she murmured.

  “Why are they all here already?”

  “Detective St. Clair called, asking if we could meet half an hour earlier, and I agreed. I didn’t realize she wasn’t going to call you.”

  Jil followed her down the dark corridor and joined the company gathered around the casket. She noticed Detective St. Clair standing next to Detective Fraser and three uniformed officers. The ME, his face hidden behind a mask, stood waiting in his isolation robe and gloves. Jil recognized Karrie’s eyes behind the mask.

  “Your dad?” she asked.

  Karrie nodded.

  She pointedly ignored Fraser and stood next to Karrie, glowering at him when he attempted eye contact.

  When St. Clair gave the signal, two workers bearing tools began the process of unsealing the casket. “I’d like to warn you all that this might not be pretty,” Karrie’s father said through his mask. He laid out a metal tray on which he placed several syringes, containers, and swabs.

  “Why doesn’t he take the body back to the lab?” Jil whispered.

  “He’s looking for something specific,” Karrie said. “He only needs a few samples. That’s all they have a warrant for.”

  Several minutes passed before one of the workers announced, “Ready.”

  They lifted the lid, which creaked indignantly, as if protesting this interruption to Elise’s final rest.

  A dank smell filled the room as the mouth of the lid yawned open to reveal Elise’s body. If she’d thought burying Elise the first time had been hard, it was nothing compared to this. Her breath caught in her throat and her knees buckled.

  Karrie caught her arm. “You don’t have to be here,” she whispered.

  Jil breathed out deliberately. She wouldn’t leave Elise alone for people to prod at her.

  “Excuse me, please,” Detective Fraser muttered, weaving his way through the people assembled. Jil noticed his face had gone a peculiar shade of white, and he staggered a bit on his way to the door.

  Apparently, this exhumation wasn’t any easier on Nic.

  Outside, a car started, and Detective Fraser drove off. She hoped he hadn’t puked in the bushes on his way out. Her own stomach felt queasy enough already.

  Jil studiously avoided looking at Elise’s face—afraid it might show signs of decay, or worse, be exactly the same. She looked instead at her scarf, her jacket, remembering the day she’d brought all this to Karrie.

  Her gaze fell on her lapel, to where the butterfly brooch should have been.

  It was missing.

  A wrenching feeling in her gut threw her off balance. Why would it be missing, when Elise had been so specific about having it buried with her? Who could have taken it, and when?

  Something felt wrong here. This brooch was the key to something. She could feel it. Where the hell had it gone?

  Her brain caught up to her gut. She recalled Nic’s face—the haunted look in his eye, the fear in the lines that pulled down his mouth. He wasn’t affected by the dead body. He had another reason for rushing out.

  He knows something.

  But by the time she got to the parking lot, his car had disappeared.

  She drove straight to the precinct, imagining seventeen different ways to have this conversation with him.

  The first scenario involved running him over with her car…

  The second involved beating down his office door and strangling him with her bare hands.

  But she didn’t have time to consider any more because when she got there, his spot was empty.

  Where the hell have you gone now?

  Had he fled? Did he have a plan? If so, what was it?

  With no other choice for now, she turned around and headed home.

  *

  “Good news,” Elise said. “Your funding’s approved for September.”

  “What? Really? That’s great!”

  “It is.”

  “Enough for tuition and books?”

  “And a little stipend for meals.” Elise smiled and passed the roast chicken to Jil.

  “Well, clearly, that’s important.” Jil helped herself to the chicken and potatoes, then reached for the carrots. She looked down at her plate.

  By the time she started college, she’d be eighteen, and would age out of the system. She would need to find an apartment to live in and a job to pay her bills while she attended school. It would have been impossible to pay the tuition on top of all that, so having the funding was great, but she still worried about how she’d manage it all.

  “Penny for them?” Elise said gently.

  Jil looked up and attempted a smile. “Nothing. Just thinking about how much things are going to change.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m going to be eighteen soon.”

  “I know. I’ve already ordered the cake.”

  Jil felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she swallowed hard. This was the deal. It had always been the deal. Elise had been great to her, but in a foster situation, kids didn’t get to stay.

  “Have you heard who you’re getting when I age out?” she asked, trying to look up, but failing.

  Elise dropped her fork. “What?”

  “Well, you know—who’s going to replace me?” She hated the idea of someone else sleeping in her bed, drinking out of her mug.

  “Ah.” Elise reached over and folded her hand over Jil’s. “That’s what you’re thinking about.”

  Jil took a shaky breath. Good-byes had never been this hard for her. She looked up, forcing herself to smile.

  “I’m not taking anyone else.”

  She blinked a few times. “No?”

  “No. You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else sleeping in your bed. It would be too awful. Besides, I hoped that you would be sleeping in your bed while you were in college.”

  “But I’m out of the system, Elise. They won’t pay you anymore.”

  Elise shrugged. “Well. I guess I’ll have to take the loss. They were lousy paychecks anyway. Never did cover the amount of dessert you eat.”

  Jil laughed, but then stopped short. “I can’t ask you to keep me for free.”

  Elise met her eyes and smiled. Sadness hovered behind her eyes. “It’s not a favor, Jil. It’s a blessing for me. You’ve spared this old widow from loneliness and grief, and I don’t know what I’d do without you now.”

  *

  “He’s fucking with me, I swear to God.”

  Jess raised her eyebrows. “I don’t disagree with you.”

  Jil exhaled a long breath.

  “But…”

  Jil turned to look at her. “What?”

  “I think you’ve had a very long day. And I don’t think there’s anything else you’re going to accomplish tonight. You’re out of steam. So I’m running you a bath.” Jess didn’t wait for an answer. She just moved past Jil into the en suite of Elise’s bedroom and turned on the faucet.

  As the smell of strawberry wafted into the bedroom, Jil sighed and relented. She stripped off her clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. They probably needed a wash as badly as she did.

  Jess met her in the doorway and glanced up and down, biting her lip.

  Jil smiled, despite herself. “You don’t want to get too close, believe me.”

  Jess winked. “Get in before I do something to delay you.”

  She got into the hot bath and sank below the surface, blocking out all sounds. The water hovered over her, a protective shield—a layer of calm.

  When she broke the surface, Jess sat there with a
bottle of wine and two glasses.

  “Thanks.” Jil accepted hers and took a long sip. The buzz ran through her whole body instantly and she could breathe. With the hot water, the safety of Jess’s presence beside her, the heat of the wine—everything fell away.

  When she finally got out, Jess handed her a towel and took away her glass. “C’mon. I want to take you to bed.”

  Jil nodded. “Let’s go.”

  “We’re going to consecrate your childhood bedroom?”

  She snorted. “Believe me, it’s been consecrated a few hundred times already.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Oh, yeah. I was an early bloomer. But I’m not taking you there. It’s not big enough for all the things I want to do to you.”

  “Agreed.” Jess’s touch lit her skin on fire. She let her towel fall and pulled Jess in again, backing her against the wall so she could kiss her mouth, her cheek, her neck—then ran her fingers along Jess’s waist, pulling up her sweater so she could caress her bare back.

  Her nipples were so hard they ached, and being pressed so close to Jess’s sweet heat made her melt harder.

  “Let’s go.” Jess’s voice came out a little breathlessly. “Or we might not get there at all.”

  Jil pulled herself away, and her skin protested the sudden cold. She linked hands with Jess again and led her to the bed. At the edge of the bed, they stopped so she could pull Jess’s sweater over her head, leaving her in her jeans and navy lace bra.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Jil murmured, then kissed her again.

  Jess clasped the back of her head and bit her lip as she kissed her.

  “Wow, you’re fast. Learn something in our time apart?” She searched her face. Had she slept with someone else?

  “No, as a matter of fact, I learned it from you.”

  Jess pulled her down on the plush down duvet. For a moment, she got lost in the sweetness of the moment—of being close and safe, skin on skin, and faces so near, there was only a whisper between them.

  “Don’t ever leave me again,” Jess said. “Or, if you’re going to, do it permanently. Either way, I can’t take the push and pull. It’s too hard.”

  Jil kissed her cheek, a whisper on Jess’s soft skin. “Agreed.” She moved to her mouth, breaking away only to say, “You taste the same.”

  Jess’s eyes met hers. “So do you.”

  Jess snaked her arms around Jil’s torso, and caressed her bare breasts with open palms.

  Jil sucked her breath in through her teeth as her nipples turned to stone.

  Jess kissed her neck again, her breath hot and steamy on Jil’s skin. “Do you want me to continue?” She pinched one nipple lightly and Jil arched into her hand.

  “Yes,” she managed through the surge. “Please.”

  Jil relaxed and Jess tweaked her nipple again, then ran her hands down her flat abs to the soft part of her stomach, right below her belly button.

  Jess’s hot hands massaging her bare breasts made it hard to breathe, let alone think. Jess’s lips touched every part of her—neck, shoulders, arms—as she spoke, and her warm breath whispering over Jil’s skin made her dizzy.

  She leaned back into Jess’s arms, and the phrase sweet surrender crossed her mind, before it was obliterated by a moan that escaped her.

  “Next?” she said through the waves of pleasure that rushed from her nipples to her toes.

  Jess used her superior positioning to explore Jil’s body from her shoulders to her knees.

  She traced a line around Jil’s navel, making wider and wider circles…

  “Christ.” Jil turned her face into Jess’s breast and captured a nipple through the dark lace bra.

  Jess gasped in surprise. “Excuse me. This is about you.”

  Jil moaned as Jess’s fingers traveled down farther still, parting her thighs…

  She arched back into Jess’s chest, watched Jess’s fingers slipping in and out of her. Then she closed her eyes and let the orgasm take over.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The phone rang at seven thirty in the morning. Jil groped along the nightstand in her bedroom at Elise’s until her fingers found the flat face of her phone.

  She sat up as Karrie’s voice reached her ear. “Jil, I’m sorry to call you so early.”

  “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

  “It seems like there’s a never-ending parade of problems with this burial.” She sounded scared, maybe like she’d been crying.

  “What now?”

  “I don’t know whether I should call the police, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t think they’d believe me. They’d just think I made a mistake. But I thought you would. Believe me, I mean.”

  Jil raked the hair back from her face and blinked hard to clear the sleep from her eyes. She flung off the covers and reached for a robe. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” For a moment, she wondered if she should grab a notepad and pen—her current mental computing skills left a lot to be desired—but then decided that a strong cup of something would sharpen her wits and help her start her day at the same time.

  “Okay.” Karrie’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “Every morning, I come in around seven o’clock. I have a lot to do lately because we’ve lost a few funeral directors, and they’re a bit difficult to replace.”

  “So you’re working long hours?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re tired.”

  “Yeah. Wait. But that doesn’t mean I’m not sure about what happened.”

  Jil took down the coffee canister and started filling the machine. Why didn’t she do this at night so in the morning, she only had to hit the start button? She knew why—every morning, she told herself that tonight, she was going back home to her own place.

  Only she didn’t. She kept staying here.

  “I’m here until seven thirty at night.”

  “So you work a twelve-and-a-half-hour day.”

  “Well, I break half an hour for lunch.”

  “That’s still some workday, five days a week.”

  “Six, actually,” Karrie said ruefully. “My husband and I are saving for a house.”

  Jil smiled.

  “So every night before I leave, I lock my top drawer and put the key in the glass dish behind the pot by the door.

  “Why?”

  “Well, I’m not supposed to take it home with me.”

  Jil shook her head. Workplace politics had always baffled her. “Okay. So you have a top drawer in your office with a lock on it, but you’re not supposed to take the key home. So you lock the drawer and leave the key inside your office, which you then also lock?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you take that key home?”

  “Well, I’m not supposed to, but last night, for some reason, I did. I forgot to put it into the main box in the staff room. We keep them all together, you see, so that if one of us is away and another person has to take over, they have a key.”

  “There’s no master key?”

  “No. The building is a historic site. They’ve retained all the old character of the home, including the original handles and locks from the nineteen hundreds.”

  “Charming, but a bit impractical,” Jil said.

  Karrie sighed. “It is. Especially when a key goes missing.”

  Jil got tired of waiting for the coffee to fill the carafe, so she pulled the glass pot out and stuck her mug directly under the stream. “And has it? Gone missing?”

  “No,” Karrie said, “but someone was in my office last night.”

  “Who?”

  “I have no idea. But they didn’t use my key, because it was in my purse this morning when I came in.”

  “And how do you know?”

  Karrie sighed. “This is why I haven’t called the police.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have no proof. It’s just that I always leave things in my drawers organized in a certain way—client envelopes alphabeti
zed and filed by year in the bottom drawer, which is not locked, by the way, and the more valuable items in the top drawer. You know, like rings for burial and reminder notes from clients. Anything that could be confidential.”

  “And…?”

  “So this morning, I went to retrieve a file from the bottom drawer, and I found Elise’s misfiled—two spaces over from where it should have been.”

  “And it’s not possible that you misfiled it yourself?”

  Karrie sighed. “No. But even if it were, that doesn’t explain why the top drawer was ransacked.”

  “Ransacked?”

  “Yes. Everything had fallen out of order.”

  “Where was the key?”

  “That’s the strange part. I found it back in the glass dish behind the pot!”

  “So, someone broke into your office, rearranged a file in your drawer, and ransacked your box of client items.” She took a sip of coffee and felt it warm her from her stomach all the way to her toes. She took another sip and sighed. Bliss.

  “I know it sounds ridiculous,” Karrie said. “But someone was here.”

  “It doesn’t sound ridiculous to me,” Jil said. “Is it at all possible someone knew what he or she was looking for?”

  “I do think I know, which is the other reason I called you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Remember yesterday, when you asked about the brooch?”

  Jil set her mug down. “Yes.”

  “I lied to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I had an obligation to Elise, who was my client. She made me promise not to reveal what I had done, especially to you, and I did. I promised. But now this is all a bit much for me, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “What do you mean, Karrie? What did you do? Where is the brooch?”

  “She made me swear to take it off her before the final burial. She said I had to make sure it was on her for the wake—that nobody removed it—and that as soon as the wake ended, I should take it off her and pop it into an envelope that she’d pre-addressed and stamped.”

  “And did you?”

  “I did.”

  “Do you remember where you sent it?”

  Karrie sighed. “That’s the trouble. I wrote down the address, just in case I ever encountered a problem with her envelope and I had to try again. This morning, when I came in, that’s what I found missing—my pink sticky note with the address on it.”